The Situationtorium

"Greetings. I am Lucius Gracchus Scipio Bibulus and this is the Situationtorium! Our top story: Christianity. Innocent offshoot of Judaism, or dangerous cannibalistic society? With me this evening: Sextus Julius Africanus, Christian advocate."

"Lucius, it is preposterous to call Christianity a cannibalistic society."

"Well, it is reported that on regular intervals Christians eat the body and blood of a crucified Jewish insurrectionist. Sounds like cannibalism to me, Africanus."

"It's symbolic. They're just eating bread and wine, and calling it body and blood."

"You heard it here first. Christians aren't even good cannibals. This is the Roman News Network. Veni, vidi, reportavi."

Seaside Contemplation

Continued from "Vision at the Willow Grove."
~~~

We were all afraid to speak to him. The witch had made her proclamation. What more could be said?

Kannir had planted himself on the seashore and stared out to the horizon. After several days had passed, I could not bear it any longer and confronted him.

I spoke firmly, "You need to return to the village, Kannir."

Kannir responded after a few moments, "I have to find her, Goten."

"The witch said you saw a demon intent on stealing your heart. Be reasonable."

"I do not know if she was a demon," Kannir replied, "but she already has my heart."

The Clay Files: Unclassified

Rickie Clay nurses his cigarette as if it were his last. "We were just kids back then." Smoke cascades out his nostrils. "We were just a couple of teenage boys, a couple of teenage boys and an orangutan that played the drums." He stares out to a landscape only he can see.

Frankie Clay speaks up, "When Uncle Sam came calling you didn't say no in those days. We still trusted the government."

"So you secretly worked for the federal government while posing as a pop band?" the off-screen interviewer asks.

"No! It was always about the music first!" Rickie fumes.

~~~
More adventures of The Clay Brothers

The Heavyset Man

Harold shook his head in disbelief at the heavyset man occupying two seats on the bus.

"Can you believe that guy?" Harold whispered to his wife Josephine. "How can someone get into that kind of shape? I'm going to say something. I have to say something."

Josephine said, "Don't make a scene, Harold."

"Look at him. Even his eyebrows are fat. His eyebrows!" Harold then called to the man, "Hey, buddy. It's called Weight Watchers!"

The man heaved himself out of his seat and lumbered over to Harold.

"Now you've done it," said Josephine.

The man sat on Harold and Josephine.

Get Over It

Mark lets out a sharp exhale. They were beginning to delve into some really deep stuff. "I have this fantasy where I'm like other people."

"You're not like other people?" Dr. Papapoulos scribbles some notes.

"For example: I care deeply about how other people think about me. Nobody else does. I mean it. Nobody. Everyone else just does what they want. If they offend someone, it's that other person's fault. If they're offended by someone, it's also that other person's fault. I fantasize I could treat people as carelessly as they treat me."

"That's stupid," Dr. Papapoulous says.

Mark weeps bitterly.

Guess What I've Been Watching Recently

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Valerie says.

"What if you're brutally maimed?" Tom says. "You're certainly not stronger in that scenario!"

Indistinct mutterings of agreement spread throughout the group.

"Okay," Valerie sighs, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger or brutally maims you."

"What if it leaves you with a crippled psyche, the husk of the former person you once were?" Jessica asks.

More muffled expressions of agreement.

"Fine," Valerie, exasperated, says, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger or brutally maims you or leaves you with a crippled psyche, the husk of the former person you once were."

King of the Hobos

In certain societies it is considered a good thing to be crazy. There they make you king, though, being crazy, it is hard to imagine that you would understand or appreciate such coronation.

Insanity is seen as the purest form of communication with the gods. If the gods are beyond human limits and comprehension, the thinking goes, then those who have left behind lucidity must have special communion with the divine.

That is how the king of the hobos is selected. The craziest, most insane vagrant is selected by the most demented process known to man (hobo or otherwise): Democratic election.

Historic Legislation

"Senator Evans from Pennsylvania is recognized."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I wish to congratulate my fellow senators on the spectacular undertaking we accomplished earlier today. We answered the call of history as so many generations of Americans have before us. When faced with crisis, we did not shrink from our challenge – we overcame it. We did not avoid our responsibility – we embraced it. We did not fear our future – we shaped it. We finally passed S3133: Someone Please Name a Highway after Senator Evans So He'll Shut Up Already and Do Some Work for a Change Act of 2010. Thank you!"

~~~
With thanks to President Obama for supplying part of the text.

More proposals by Senator Evans of Pennsylvania

One Sentence Story Collection XIV

It had been two weeks since last she saw the sunrise.

It's strange, that even now, all my thoughts turn to you.

Frank's coffee that morning tasted awful, but that was to be the best part of his day.

Eric shamelessly joins the Twitter trend. #6wordstory

Ain't That the Way Love's Supposed to Be?

Absurd equations and notes were scrawled with a shaky and uneven hand across every available surface including the ceiling. Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield played on continuous loop as Ben laughed aloud.

"It all makes sense," Ben said either to himself, or to the imaginary people populating his mind, "When you put it all together it's all so obvious." Ben fell onto his bed with a contented sigh.

His roommate, Jeff, opened the door, "Hey, Ben we were—What have you been doing?"

Ben sat up and smiled, "She'll be mine. It's only a matter of time. I figured it out."

Sir Malik

Steam rises from the frozen ground as thick black blood oozes onto it. Sir Malik laughs with sadistic glee at the sight. The monster has been slain, but Malik's bloodlust has yet to be slaked. He raises his axe and hacks at the lifeless ogre’s corpse. The black blood splatters everywhere, resting in large thick globules on Malik's chortling face. It burns the skin slightly, but Malik continues to decimate the body of the ogre, until nothing but a black mass is left.

Malik's companions stand off to the side and murmur among themselves concerning the mental health of their comrade.

Future History

In the city that never sleeps, the police force could not afford rest either. In the year 2022, the first robotic officers were inducted into the NYPD. They were little more than self-operating computers going through case files then. The first robot was placed on the beat in 2045, and by 2062 the entire NYPD was comprised of machine (except for the commissioner whose role was now more network administrator than anything).

If there's one thing computers like it's efficiency, and humans are not very efficient, even when it comes to crime. It wasn't long before robots took that over, too.

The Arrowhead Non-Proliferation Treaty

"The Choctaw must abide by the Arrowhead Non-Proliferation Treaty and allow weapons inspectors unfettered access to your reserves," Opothleyahola of the Muscogee declares.

"Our reserves are for peaceful purposes" counters Pushmataha of the Choctaw, "Winter is soon upon us. We need the arrowheads to hunt the mighty deer."

"If your intentions are peaceful, then why deny the inspectors of the IAEA (Intertribal Arrowhead Endowment Agency) access?"

Pushmataha uneasily concedes, "We will allow inspectors access in two weeks provided they do not disturb our sacred burial mounds."

"So you can hide your stockpiles?" Opothleyahola yells.

Pushmataha feigns outrage at such an accusation.

Insomnia

I cannot sleep.

That is not entirely accurate. I sleep maybe an hour at a time, after about three or four hours tossing and turning.

I don't drift into it either. One minute I'm lying uncomfortably on my bed and the next I'm standing somewhere I've never been, but completely familiar. You know how it is with dreams.

People I know reveal pieces of themselves I never knew. Since it's my dream, I guess they're pieces of me I never knew.

Then he shows up, ruins everything. Just like in my waking life. I wake up depressed, angry.

I cannot sleep.

Three-Way Calling

"Your phone's about to ring," the voice inside Misty's head says.

"That's crazy. How would you know—" Misty is interrupted by the voice of Gnarls Barkley singing Crazy, Misty's ringtone.

"See?"

"How did you do that?" Misty answers the phone, "Hello?"

"Misty? This is Daniel. I know we only went out last night and it's a rule not to call the next day, but I had to."

"Pathetic."

"Shut up!"

"Oh?" Daniel sighs, "I guess maybe I shouldn't have called." The line goes silent.

"Look what you did!" Misty fumes. "I liked Daniel."

"You can do better," the voice says callously.

My Week So Far

"You're getting old," they say, "It's only downhill from here."

Such words of comfort! Please speak more of them to me, gentle folk.

I understand Catch-22 now, all the nonconsecutive skipping through time.

Perhaps it is karma. I taunted my father with the typical gag gifts one gets on a fiftieth birthday. Now the universe has decided to "even the score."

The doctor shrugs, "Don't know what it is. I know what it's not, but not what it is."

He prescribes me a tiny pill. Thank goodness for four dollar prescriptions at Wal-Mart. They make me drowsy. They make me incoherent.

Misty

"Misty. Misty. Hey, Misty!"

"Shut up!" Misty says out loud. Other library patrons give her weird stares, but she doesn't notice.

"Nobody can hear me except you, Misty," the voices reminds her.

"Maybe I don't want to hear you either. Ever think of that?" Misty thumbs through a back issue of Scientific American. "Maybe I don't want a voice in my head all the time telling me to do things."

A woman walks past Misty.

"Her! Kill her," the voice says.

"See, this is what I'm talking about!" Misty says. "Okay, but this is the last time, and I mean it!"

The Obstruction Party: The Party of Ideas

"The Galactic Federation is expecting us to move forward on Universal Health Care, and that is what my administration will do. We have incorporated ideas from all fifty-seven major political parties. This is a quinquageseptpartisan bill, and we will pass it even if we have to go through the Amalgamation Process to push it through."

"That was President Lovenstein earlier today," says B'jnktl the news alien, "We are joined now by Obstruction Party Chairman Betelgeuse Titanium."

"We oppose the President, and he cannot say that he has quinquageseptpartisan support!"

"But the Obstruction Party opposes everything all the time," B'jnktl says.

"Precisely!"

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Secrets

"This doesn't leave this room. Got it?" Steve's face was as menacing as he could manage. "I don't want to have to kill you."

"Why would I tell anyone? It's perfectly normal for an adult male to be into," Amanda snickered, "My Little Pony."

"Not so loud! You don't know who might be listening."

Amanda took control of herself again, "Come on, Steve. Who would care that you—" stifled laughter bubbled at the back of Amanda's throat until she couldn't hold it anymore. "I'm sorry. This is gold!"

"Last time I ever open up to you."

"Oh, cry to your pony!"